The Swordsman
by Arsenal 14
Summary: Set in the mirai timeline and the wanderings a lost Trunks through the world, searching for answers that no one can answer.
1. The Last

The Swordsman  
  
  
Chapter One:  
The Last  
  
  
  
When, in the darkness,  
The lamenting cries do call to deaf skies,  
There shall come into the world  
A hero who will bear the light.  
  
  
  
Zero could not know the future. He was one who can only hope to live to see the sun set. Indeed, that is all anyone can hope for in these dark times. Max once believed a courageous heart could overcome any obstacle, as heroes of the past once gave hope to the universe with their strength and benevolence. But these heroes had all died, and when the sky turned red, and new flames masked the setting sun, the night, cold and merciless, set in, and gave an unfulfilling sleep beneath the cold stars to the unfortunate souls. Memories of past hopes haunted his mind through troubled sleep. He seemed to think more and more of the older days, happier days that he had never known. Thin beams of a deceiving, warm light struck his eyes. So he was alive for another day. He turned his eyes groggily to the mangled shards of glass through which the intruding light entered. It is funny. Every morning, some part of him almost expected to see the world at peace: to see buildings standing on solid ground, see people walking up and down streets without fear, and see small children playing in a world that did not threaten their young lives. But the sharp, mocking edges of shattered glass that broke the light as it entered, reminded him daily of his reality. Born in the few, fleeting months of peace, which are not even a faint glow in his mind, this was all he had ever known. This terror created all that he was or might one day be. He often wondered if he could save these people, if he could survive the awesome force that decimated so many others. If he were to die, then this world would die with him. If he lived, there might have been nothing he could do. When they came, the sun shown red in anticipation. One by one, the brave warriors of the past fell. A story he have heard so many times, yet was too young to remember for himself, those two hunted the great fighters of Earth for amusement and smiled as they died. The monsters! They killed so many innocents the same way, and he could do nothing.  
  
"The last," Zero whispered, watching the dim rays break in the glass. "I am the last."  
  
He tried to hold it back, but the weight of this responsibility held him down. He could have easily ended up dead, just as the others had in protecting this world. If he wanted to stay alive, survival had to be his first priority. But then, the others would die; more people, guilty of nothing, would suffer in their own, or their loved ones' pain. If he abandoned them, they would have nothing.  
  
"I am the only one left." he reminded himself. "I am all they have now."  
  
That night flooded back into his mind, bringing an image of a man back to him like a hurricane. The rain, the tears, the lightning, all flowed over him and he clenched his sheets savagely. That night he had gained his goal, but lost something far more cherished.   
  
"Trunks," he choked out, his own voice barely audible to his own ears.  
  
His heart beat faster. His face grew warm. In the cool air, he began to sweat, and breathing became slightly more difficult. He felt the threatening moisture cover his eyes and he forced the menacing tears back. Even after so long, he could still see Trunks so vividly.   
  
"I'm sorry, Trunks." he whispered. "I am sorry."  
  
With nothing else to eliminate the memories, he threw the sheets away and dressed quickly. It was an eerie morning; all was quiet and the streets were deserted except for the occasional shadow darting from alley to alley. The citizens slunk from each darkened corner and buttress like wild game, always wary of the unseen hunter.  
  
This was his world: a life of fear, unseen danger, an uncertain future, and a dreary past. The sensation of heat, induced from old fears, passed and he pulled his jacket over his shoulders to block the chilled air. He brushed stray hairs from his eyes absently and turned from his window. He was truly the last. These remaining people needed help, but he was not sure if he could be the one they needed. He did not know if he had the strength.   
  
"I just don't know if I can do it." he spoke to one who could no longer hear him. "I don't know if I can save them."  
  
Instantly withdrawing him from his own doubts, an echoing crashing boomed through the air. It pulsed in his ears, rang within his head, and he stood utterly dumbfounded. He turned in an instant, rushing back to the broken panes at my window, and searched the empty streets. There, the flames rose fiercely. The twisting, searing orange and red reached up from decaying buildings that succumbed all to easily in their heat. As the flames spread, stretching into the cresses of the city, explosion followed explosion until the morning sky boomed like a firing squad.  
  
The silent people had found their voices, but it was calls of pain. Mothers screamed for their children and ran with them held close to their chests down the streets. Men rushed out from the flames and searched for dark corners, yet found none in the sinewy glow. Children, lost and afraid, cried and darted about, looking for saviors that either did not exist or could not come to them.  
  
He couldn't bear standing there. He couldn't stand to wait any longer. He rushed out into the hall, grasping the belt of his sword's sheath as he passed through the doorframe. He leapt down to the first level, and vaulted out of the house. As he stepped down onto the stone steps of the door, he imagined he heard the soft voice of his girlfriend call out in anxious trepidation.  
  
He did not hear her; he couldn't wait to hear her. He stepped lightly on the doorstep, allowing a splintered second of contact, and launched myself toward the city. He climbed higher in the air every second, closer to the city and closer to the flames. 


	2. Overflow

Chapter Two:  
Overflow  
  
  
  
The searing heat of the buildings attacked him as he came into the midst of the flames. He felt the sting of it through every inch of his skin that was not covered. It burned his face and charred the tops of his hands. Breathing became difficult as the scalding warmth surrounded his neck and chest. Past the smoke, he saw quick movements below. There were survivors.  
  
He dove down closer to the ground. The heat was almost unbearable there. Any survivors there were would be dead in minutes if he didn't get them out. He didn't even know how long he could stand the fire and smoke. He scanned over the debris and saw a tiny silhouette within the flames. He had to hurry. This was obviously a child and would not be able to withstand this heat. He went to the child, a small girl, and she looked up at him with such abject fear it pained him.  
  
"Who are you?" She whispered.  
  
"A friend." Zero said, lifting her and trying to shield her. She placed her head against his shoulder, and he ran with her out of the flaming building.  
  
"I want my mommy." he heard her cry.  
  
"Where did you last see her?" he asked. If the child's mother was still in the building he had to act fast.   
  
"Back there." She pointed over his shoulder. "She was running with me. The roof started to fall, and I couldn't see her anymore."  
  
He looked back to the crumbling structure he had just escaped. The roof had collapsed, indeed, and now it looked like nothing more than a pile of lumber in a winter fireplace. The fire would have consumed everything in a few minutes, and all hope left my heart.  
  
"Please." She said. "Please help me find my mommy."  
  
"I'm sorry little one." he whispered. "I can't find your mother."  
  
He could understand her pain; he could feel her tears against his neck as. His thoughts wandered back to his girlfriend. He had not even heard what she called to him as he ran from the house. He imagined it must have simply been something such as, "Be careful" or possibly even "I love you." He had heard her say these things so many times before. In these dark times, he had no one else in the world, and he had not even heard her words as he left.  
  
A searing pain erupted down his back and knocked him from the sky. He clenched his teeth and clamped his eyes shut at the impact, and he tightened his hold on the little girl as he fell. Managing to open his eyes before striking the ground, he turned in the air so he would not crush the innocent child. Instead, he landed square on his back, already throbbing, and smashed the back of his head against the cold pavement. The force of the landing threw the girl from his arms and she landed several feet away.  
  
He was able to turn his head to the sky, his neck and skull aching from the collision, and saw what he already knew was there. Yes, there they were, smiling malicious smiles down unto their destruction. They loved this pain they caused. He picked himself from the ground; there was nothing else he could do, and prepared for attack.   
  
"Why am I doing this?" his mind asked him. "I can't possibly defeat them as I am."  
  
This was a sad truth of which both his opponents and he knew well. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the child lifted herself from the ground. She ran from the area as quickly as her small legs could carry her and he wondered where she would go. Perhaps she was merely another poor person he would not be able to save, another soul he had failed. He silenced the nagging thoughts, silenced all outside distractions, focused once more on his task, gave up all hopes of survival, and dove into the sky and into battle.   
  
He flew straight for the dark one, number 17, knowing he was the stronger of the two. Zero felt no need to avoid his power, as he had no choice but to fight them both at once. He grinned with cruel pleasure and captured Zero's fist in one quick movement. In indiscernible speed, he brought his knee up into Zero's stomach, and all the air left his body. He was paralyzed in mid air, helpless and breathless, as a mercilessly savage blow struck his shoulders like thunder. It must have been the girl, number 18, because the dark haired boy had never stopped smiling sadistically at Zero.  
  
He tumbled from the sky and came crashing down into the wreckage that he had just escaped. That same building from which he had pulled the child was falling all around him, and he pushed himself from the heated floor with tired arms. He coughed and wheezed in that inferno, his empty lungs pulling desperately for the dirty air, and he felt his strength steadily flowing out of his body.  
  
"No," he thought, "I have to get up. I have to get out of here."  
  
His vision blurred and his head started spinning. Every moment he spent with only the smoke to breathe was taking its toll on his body. In a dizzy stupor, his arms slipped out from under him and he fell clumsily onto the ground. He was too weak to even stand; he had no means of defending himself. The smoke that was killing him was his only shield. He would have surely died if he did not think of something.  
  
"I'm sorry." he whispered, coughing between his words. "I am so sorry, Trunks. I couldn't do it."   
  
Bitter tears found their way to his eyes and he could no longer hold them back. They flowed down his eyes in salty streams, and each tear held a different memory. Memories of the rare moments of happiness, quiet moments at the dinner table, training with Trunks, the calm stillness of his girlfriend's eyes, and every night he fell asleep thanking whoever could hear that he had lived through the day and his family had remained untouched.  
  
"I'm sorry, Pan." he said and tasted the tears on his lips. "I guess I won't be coming home today. I am sorry for all the hurt you are going to feel because of that, and I am sorry I won't be able to protect you anymore."  
  
Only a few short feet from his face, a thin blast of energy broke through the smoke and shattered the concrete. His enemies were impatient. Several more followed, sometimes far away, sometimes close enough to stop one's heart, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything at then; he didn't care if he died, didn't care if he lived, didn't care if the entire world shattered beneath him. But he would not give them what they wanted. All he knew was that he wouldn't make it so easy for them. His death would be by his own terms.  
  
He focused the energy that remained; he had so little, but enough to do what he needed. In a rapid series of blasts, he shot the last supporting beams of the structure down and brought wood, plaster, and stone down on top of him. He clenched his teeth and waited for the impact.  
  
He realized he had not died by the aching throughout his body. His head, neck, back, and legs all felt the sting of the debris and seemed to mock his troubles. Humiliated in battle and unable to die, he cursed his fate. He had never asked to be the one to take this on. He never asked to be the last. He never asked for any of his strengths. It wouldn't end; the world was intent on torturing him. It just wouldn't end.  
  
"Just let me go!" he tried to scream, yet even his voice was weak. "I never wanted any of this! Why must I be the one to take all this on? I'm not strong enough! I can't do it! I can't do it alone!"  
  
He fell on his face, his breath sending up a small cloud of dust. When the building collapsed, it had extinguished the fire around him, and a small crack allowed a sliver of light to enter, as well as air. No doubt the two thought he was dead, yet he would not die that day after all.   
  
"I am not strong enough." he said. "I can't do it."  
  
He looked at the sliver of light; it was falling across his hand revealing a dirty cut. Even he was easily breakable.   
  
"I wish I were not the last." he whispered. "I wish I did not have to be the one. I wish I could forget this world, so that I would never have to feel this pain again."  
  
His head began to swim again, the smoke built up in his throat once more, and his hurting body took control over all his senses. With one last cough, the darkness claimed him and he knew no more. 


	3. Discoveries

Chapter Three:  
Discoveries  
  
  
  
I woke up to a throbbing pain eating at the back of my head. I tried to raise my hand, to feel the wound, yet found I couldn't move it more than a few inches upward. I opened my eyes, yet found the view the same whether they were closed or not. Almost in a panic, I wanted to feel the wound, but discovered once again that my arm was immobile in my limited space. I smashed my elbow against the side of my tight prison, jerked my head up at the collision, and smacked my already pounding head against the hard roof.  
  
"Damn it!" I said and sunk back down to the ground. "What the hell is going on?"  
  
I forced myself to calm down and tried to think, forgetting about the numbing soreness in my back and head. I slowed my breathing, hoping to relax my heart, and finally my thoughts were able to come together.  
  
'Where the hell am I?' I thought.  
  
I blinked in the darkness to make sure my eyes were truly open. The inky darkness seemed so dead that I wondered if perhaps I was blind. As my eyes darted blindly about, I noticed, to my great relief, a twinge of light. Only a sliver, one single, golden thread fell in through the ceiling. It rested on my hand and I saw the raw edges of some deep cut.  
  
'Kuso!' I thought, seeing the condition of the wound. 'What else happened to me?'  
  
There was no noise as I lay still. Whenever I moved my arms or body the small distances the space allowed, the tiny swishing, gravelly noises seemed to echo. This was maddening! I felt suffocated trapped there. The darkness closed in all around me and whichever way I turned I struck my arms and legs against the sides.   
  
"Let me out of here!" I heard my voice rising to a scream. "Get me out!"  
  
'How did I get here?' I thought with fear rising in my heart. 'What happened to me? What the hell is going on?!'  
  
I couldn't move. I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. All I knew was I was trapped beneath a mass of rocks and debris, yet I had no idea how deeply I was buried. Despite my efforts to calm it, my heart started beating wildly. I couldn't stand being trapped there. My senses overflowed and I desperately struck at the side of the enclosure.  
  
The side fell away like a house of cards, and walls and roof came crashing down in loose shards. I was able to stand; pebbles and dust fell from my hair and clothes. Light flooded over me and stung my eyes. I could hardly believe what had just happened. That thick prison had crumbled with one blow, and suddenly I was free.   
  
I could finally breathe deeply and the joy of that made me forget the soreness of my battered body. I laughed for my heart's ease and opened my eyes to the morning light. To be in the open air, to be free, built up in my heart and joy consumed me. Yes, I was happy, and I dropped my shoulders in relief and looked around me.  
  
The smile that had found its way to me slowly faded. The joy that I had not been able to contain was lost, paralyzing me in a bewildered stupor. My jaw dropped heavily and I gazed over the city (if I could even call it that) even more confused than when I had woken in complete darkness. Ruins, everything was in ruins.  
  
"What is this?" I breathed into the air.  
  
The air was still and stale. Not even a breath of wind was there to stir the dead stillness. All around, billowy, black clouds rose in straight lines. Countless buildings lay in shambles, leaving only piles of rubble like the one I had crawled from. In the streets, more like a discharged mine field, overturned cars had been battered and beaten into mangles shapes so that they were only recognizable by the broken glass of the windshields and dislodged air bags. Ash and soot flowed into sewer grates in rivers from broken hydrants. A few sickly flames lived, yet would soon extinguish when they consumed their measly amounts of fuel.   
  
For some reason, my heart ached at the sight, yet I could not understand why. In fact, I only then realized I did not know where I was. There was some reason for this, I knew that I had some purpose here.   
  
'What is this place?' I thought. 'I should know this. I should know why I am here.'  
  
My head ached and I clutched my skull savagely. I didn't know. I didn't know why I stood in this decimated city. I didn't know anything. It dawned on me in that confusing instant. This was the beginning of my mind; I could see nothing of the past. I had no past. I had no name. I had come into this place somehow. Yet to all my knowledge, this was my first day of life. Nothing existed before my waking.   
  
"I have no past." I repeated my thoughts. "I have no name."  
  
I touched my chest, trying to still my heart, and felt a strap there. I found that on my back, there was a scabbard. I dropped my head and at my feet, covered in dust, something caught my eye. It gleamed in the light, a round, shining metal. I reached down to it, and brushed away the larger rocks that covered it. It was the end of a leather bound sword hilt. Pulling the weapon from the rocks, I examined the double-edged sword. I ran my fingers down the flat and over the hilt.   
  
'I know this.' My mind told me.  
  
With one swift movement, the weapon was in its cover. This sword was mine, I was sure of it. It was the only thing I knew, but I needed to know more. I had some purpose in this world, something I had forgotten. I had to know why I was here, why I had woken in that troubled world.  
  
I looked over the city one last time. There was nothing for me here; there was nothing I could learn here. I stepped from the rubble, and walked away from that place with the nagging thought that I was leaving something important behind. But what that was, I would travel the world to learn. 


	4. Meetings in Misfortune

Chapter Four:  
Meetings in Misfortune  
  
  
  
I had been walking for days with little rest and hardly any food. There had been a little money in the pockets of my clothes and I was able to buy some bread and a little meat to sustain me, but that was soon gone and I needed to find some other way to keep my strength up. I had not wanted to stop long enough get much rest. There was a sense of urgency screaming in my head that I could not stop. I didn't understand this need to hurry anymore than I knew where I was going. I had no idea where this road lead, but I knew I had to get there quickly.  
  
After many days of walking like this, I accepted that I had to rest if I wanted to keep from falling down. I had come to a small country road, far from that decimated city. It was a clear day, and the sun over head beamed down, causing me to sweat. At the edge of this road, I saw a large tree that was thick enough to give off an inviting shade. I un-synched the sword from my back and set it down beside me in the grass. The turf was soft and comfortable, and as soon as I laid my head down, sleep overcame me.  
  
I rested in a deep satisfying slumber, yet that uneasy feeling never left me. Even the scrambled fragments of dreams that found their way into my mind were harsh and unnerving. My mind fought with my body and seemed to call to me to awaken, but the warm air lulled me deeper into sleep and my tired body triumphed over my mind.  
  
It was close to dusk, many hours later that my mind finally had its way. A haunting vision had just finished in my head. I had heard footsteps, heavy footsteps on soft ground, approaching me. In the vision, I had not been able to see farther up than the shins of those coming towards me, but the feet kept coming closer. I had seen my own sword lifted and held in front of my eyes and then heard the clinking of chains from above.  
  
My eyes cracked open, and my heart jumped in my chest as I discovered part of my dream was true. Many dark boots stood in front of me, more were approaching, and my sword was in the hands of some dark man grinning down at me.   
  
I pulled my knees under me and pushed myself from the ground, ready to protect myself from these men, when something crashed into my skull from behind and knocked me back in the dirt on my face.  
  
I felt something clamp down on my wrists behind my back and felt them drag me somewhere. Blackness crept in front of my eyes and I shook my head trying to overcome the dark void. I tried to get my feet beneath me, but they dragged me too quickly and my stumbling feet could not keep up. In the end, I let them drag me and waited to make my move until I could make sense of things again.  
  
They threw me, face first, on a hard, dusty surface. I breathed in the grime and that sent me coughing and sneezing. The men laughed happily from behind and the light disappeared with the whirling sound as the doors closed.   
  
"Looks like we got a new roommate." A voice said in the darkness.  
  
"Quiet now, John!" A raspier voice said. "You gonna be okay, sonny?"  
  
My head ached horribly. I felt like I wanted to throw up and I felt more than a little dizzy.  
  
"Yeah," I managed to say. "Yeah, I think so."  
  
"That's the way!" The raspy voice said. "You look like a strong young man. A little knock on the head ain't gonna keep ya down!"  
  
I dropped my head down, resting on the dirty floor. My eyes gradually became used to the dim light and I could make out the figures that owned the voices I had heard. Ahead of me was a young man who appeared to be tall if he were standing. His hands were fastened above his head and he sat against a wall. To my left, a little to the side of the young man, was an old man with white hair tied behind him. His face was ugly and wrinkled with age, but held a kindness. His had been the raspy voice that had asked of my well being.  
  
"Where am I?" I asked.  
  
"Well, that changes from day to day." The younger man said with a hint of bitterness. "You see, you've just joined our merry band of slaves!" "Sonny, for a while now, folks has been having no end of trouble." The older man said. "Now, some has been having less of it because they been having others have the trouble for 'em."  
  
"Which would be us." The young man said. "Looks like you're gonna be here for a while stranger, so you best just learn to deal with it." "Hush John!" His elder said. "Ain't no one deserves this! Ain't no one who should just learn to deal with it!"  
  
A lump in my throat was rising, and I felt sick again. I must have been weaker than I thought when they hit me. I turned my head to the side, so that I could look towards my fellow prisoners better, and felt something hot and sticky trickling down my neck. Apparently the blow was harder than I had imagined and was bleeding.  
  
"So what now?" I asked as I felt the compartment jolt forward and ease into motion.  
  
"We wait." The old man said. "We'll be moving all night. In the mornin' they'll be comin' to see to you, fix up your head and all, and then we'll be gettin' something to eat on."  
  
I noticed above the young man, whose name seemed to be John, was the source of the dim light. It was a window, covered with some torn fabric, with the light shining against it. I could see the glow of a lantern against it, projecting the shadows of bars. It must have been bright that night, and in this vast country area; the sky must have been filled with stars. But the only light that found its way in was the diffused yellow of a sickly lantern.  
  
"Wait huh?" I mumbled. "Great."  
  
"Take heart, sonny." He said kindly. "At least ya ain't alone in this. My name is Joseph and this here is my son John."  
  
I nodded in recognition when, far to my right so that I had to turn my head quickly enough to make a fresh pain in my mind, I heard the clinking of more chains. The corner from which the sound had come was much darker. I strained my eyes to make out the hard silhouette of another man, a huge man, with his back hunched over and his legs stretched out in front of him.  
  
"Who is that?" I whispered to Joseph.  
  
"Alls we know is that he calls himself 'Hunter'." He said just as quietly as I had asked. "He don't say hardly nothin'. But he's a fearsome man, a damn fearsome man! They come across him sleeping, like they did you, but I say they'd have been better to just let him alone. They's gonna have trouble out of him one o' these days. And I'm just as nervous and I am anxious to see it. He's a damn fearsome man, sonny. Listen to me, ya hear? Keep your distance from him."  
  
I nodded once again and rested my head against the floor. I wouldn't fall asleep that night, my head ached too much and I was trapped in the most uncomfortable position. However, in this circumstance, even if my body wasn't hurting, I would never have been able to make myself sleep. So I simply remained silent for the rest of the evening and watched the shadows dart across the fabric over the window.   
  
The night passed so slowly that I began to wonder if it would ever end. But just as my senses were so jumbled and frustrated from waiting that I thought I would go completely insane, the compartment pulled to a stop. I looked around my compartment and discovered I could see the faces of my roommates more clearly.   
  
All this I took in in a moment, as the whirring of the doors began and fresh morning light flooded over me and stung my eyes.  
  
"Well now," I heard someone speak. "Let's see what we caught last night." 


	5. The Dark Man

Chapter Five:  
The Dark Man  
  
  
  
I clamped my eyes shut, trying to hold out the sudden bright, stinging light flooding over me. Even with them closed, I could not escape the harsh glare and saw the bright reds and yellows behind my clenched eyes. I tried blinking the light away, and gradually my vision returned to me, but for quite a while, the images were blurred and indistinguishable and dark spots floated in my field of vision. I had wanted light, and I silently sent out sarcastic 'thank you's to whoever was responsible for this unpleasant circumstance.  
  
I could hear Joseph quietly cursing in is slow drawl, and knew he was just as happy as I at the instant change that assaulted our eyes. John had his own choice words as he muttered under his breath off to the side, many of which directed to the afterlife destination of our captors. But, I never heard a word from the man named 'Hunter.' If he had even noticed the change, or if he was simply dead over in that far corner, I could hear no indication. I found him horribly unsettling, and began to dislike him more and more every moment.   
  
The dark spots slowly became lighter and I could make out the shapes of my fellow prisoners more clearly. Joseph, who in the dim light appeared ugly with age and wrinkles, seemed even more so in the honest sun light. His hair was plaster white, and his eyes were framed with old and worn skin that looked more like dried leather than anything else. But his face still seemed wise to me, and I tended to like the old man more than any of the others. His eyes were the only part of him that did not seem exhausted, but shone with a happy smile that was not anywhere on his face. They were an earthy brown and suited him. He often looked toward his sad son with concern.   
  
"Well, now." The voice called from the door. "We done good, boys! This here looks like a right, strong kid. We'll get some good work outta him."   
  
The whiny voice continued with a jeering, and utterly obnoxious tone. "Just gotta fix his head up a bit. Poor lad got quite a bump."   
  
A mass of jeering laughter echoed after him, and clumsy hands lifted me from the ground. They seemed to be trying to shake me roughly, yet I didn't feel the discomfort from their rude handling. Actually, by now, even the pain in my head was faint and feeble, leaving me to wonder why it would need medical attention at all. These men, seeing that I was not afraid of them or that I cared in the least at their efforts to disorient me further, grew frustrated and shook me even harder, but to the same failure.  
  
"Now don't hurt him too badly, boys." That voice was high and nasal. I felt my anger rising at the sound of it. "We's gotta get enough work outta him to make our effort worth while. Now just bandage up his head and let's get on."  
  
It wasn't until after they had applied the useless, clumsy bandage to my head, that I made a discovery, which would leave me baffled. One at a time, they removed the shackles from our hands, first Joseph, then John and finally myself. At the point of a small handgun in one of the large men, another handed down a serving of food for each of us, but he only carried three plates. The man called 'Hunter' was not among us. I looked back to the back corner where I saw his huddled form the night before, but saw only a dusty stool and scattered cobwebs in the shadows there.   
  
"Here now! What 'cha looking at kid?" The slow witted giant asked.  
  
"The other man," I started. I couldn't see how he could have possibly slipped past them so easily. There was only the one door and so many men blocked the way through that. That, and the fact that it was now broad daylight made it hard to believe that he could have suddenly escaped. "What happened to him?"  
  
"Other man?" He boomed. "Looks like we picked us up a crazy one! He sees things."  
  
If I was seeing things, I was hearing things as well. I remembered Joseph's explanation just as well as I recalled the dark image of Hunter bent over as he sat in that corner through the night. But when I turned to Joseph, I saw him staring at me with the same confusion as the simple-minded man.   
  
"Joseph," I said, "What happened to him? Where is Hunter?"  
  
"What are you talking about, sonny?" He asked, looking at me with concern that exasperated me entirely. "Ain't no one else here."  
  
"I don't understand." I said. "Just last night, He was right there," and I pointed to the empty corner. "Joseph, you told me all about him. You were the one who said his name was 'Hunter'."  
  
"You feeling okay?" He asked. "Maybe your head got beat harder than they meant to."  
  
I couldn't understand any of this, and I no longer felt like eating. Just as well, it tasted like crap. I had been so sure he had been there. I was sure Joseph had told me of him. I could still remember the words. Yes, he had told me to take care, and called Hunter a fearsome man, "a damn fearsome man." I pushed my laden plate away on the floor, earning a concerned stare from my companions. Our guards, on the other hand, just laughed and took the food away in pleasure, commenting that if I wanted to starve, that was my own accord, one commenting that it would be a shame if one as strong as I fainted from hunger in the middle of my work load. I didn't care about them in the least; all that I could think of was my own confusion.  
  
'What is going on?' My mind was racing, trying to make sense of this situation. 'Am I really going crazy? If I have forgotten everything before now, could I be remembering things that never happened? What the hell is this?'  
  
John's dark eyes were fixed on me, reminding me that my face gave away more of my thoughts than I intended it to. I looked up, in no way at all comfortable, and met his stare. He looked as if he were in his thirties, with dull brown hair and his father's same earthy eyes. He had a kind face and seemed worried for me.  
  
"Are you okay, man?"  
  
"Yes." I lied. "I guess I just imagined it."  
  
The day went on for years as I lay on my stomach, my hands once again trapped in chains behind my back. I was able to look around and observe more of my surroundings in the brighter light, and it seemed to be some form of trailer. What I had thought to be a window the night before was actually just a crude square cut into the side of the metal wall, clad with bars just outside it. This was most likely to keep the portable cell cool enough to keep its prisoners alive and keep a fresh supply of oxygen. Truly, our captor was a gracious man.  
  
"How many are there?" I said to anyone who heard it.  
  
"What do you mean?" Joseph's voice answered.  
  
"We aren't the only ones he has taken prisoner right?" I said. "How many others are there?"  
  
"Quite a few, I suppose, considering the number of trucks." He said.  
  
"Thirty." John interrupted. "I've counted. Including us three, there are thirty in all."  
  
There was silence for the next hour and we traveled on at a steady pace. The compartment bounced and jarred us slightly, and I saw the light behind the fabric covering our makeshift window grow more and more red. "Including us three…," John had said, making me wonder once more if the dark man had ever really been there. I had so few memories, but the brief time I had spent walking, the wide sky around me, the sun burning on the horizon just before the night fell, and the endless stars overhead all now flooded back over me. I could see every moment since I left that dilapidated city, and in these memories was the conversation with Joseph and the image of Hunter.  
  
"Where will they take us?" I asked.  
  
"Ain't no telling." Joseph said. " We could be on the road for days, or they may put us to work before the sun comes up again. There just ain't no telling."  
  
Night was falling quickly, and the light grew more and more dim with every passing minute. I closed my eyes, deciding to maybe get a few hours sleep if by chance Joseph's prediction was true. My breathing began to slow and my mind became calm. I felt my heartbeat slow and sleep nearly overtook me when, with words so quiet I was not entirely sure I had heard, a strange voice spoke into the faint light.  
  
"Why do you not break your chains?" It asked.  
  
I was not sure I had heard anything, yet my eyes flashed open with an urgency I couldn't possibly understand. There, in that dusty corner, bent over on the stool, was the man called 'Hunter,' just as I had seen him the night before, although somehow it seemed less dark around him, and I could make out his form clearly. He was not a large man, yet I could see he held a great deal of strength. He crossed his arms across his chest and neither moved nor spoke for so long that I began to wonder if perhaps I had imagined hearing him at all. Finally, and suddenly, he turned his face and stared straight into my eyes. His face was hard, like steel, and his eyes were fierce and like black crystal. Everything about him told me to fear him, yet somehow, I wasn't. I looked at him and could say nothing. I took in his bright and wild eyes, his harsh face and tight frown, and his black hair, which looked more like fire than anything else, all in a moment.  
  
"Why do you not break your chains, boy?" He asked again. 


	6. Escape

Chapter Six:  
Escape  
  
  
  
"Why not break them, boy?" Hunter said with his cold eyes burning into me. "Don't you have the power?"  
  
I tried to pick myself from the ground so I could see him better, and I still had trouble believing he was sitting there. As surprised as I had been to see him vanish the morning before, nothing compared to the shock of suddenly finding him there again. We hadn't stopped once in the day, not even for a second meal, as our over-sized guards had promised, and the doors had never opened.   
  
"Where," I stuttered, " where did you come from?"  
  
"Break your chains, boy!" His voice became harder. "You have that strength, don't you?"  
  
His words were loud and hard now, and urgency filled me as I heard them. Yes, he was there; I could see him clearly: his piercing eyes, cold face, and proud expression. It was familiar, but at the same time so foreign. There was still no image of him anywhere in my mind or anything other memory for that matter, yet something screamed at me that there was something about this man I should know, something I was missing.  
  
"What are you talking about, Hunter?" Joseph's aged voice broke my thoughts. "Ain't no way the kid can break those things."  
  
Joseph saw him too! But only this morning, he had denied any knowledge that the dark man had ever existed. I was sure I hadn't mistaken the confusion in his eyes only twelve hours ago. I stared at him, feeling as though the world was spinning. Even John was looking at Hunter in total recognition.   
  
"What is going on here?" My voice was light, and my breathing was much faster than normal.   
  
The dark figure stood slowly, and his chains dropped carelessly to the floor. My mouth dropped helplessly as he stalked towards me, his movements not affected at all by the way the compartment bounced and rocked from the uneven roads. He stepped in front of me as I craned my neck up to try and see his face. He dropped his brows so that his eyes were sharp and angular, always with that fearsome glint, and a smirking smile came over his face. Dressed in tight clothing as black as his wild hair, the only light I could see was in the white of his gloves and the gleam in his eyes. Staring up at him, I could find no words, and only adjusted my position to try and see him better.  
  
"Why do you lie there?" His voice was quiet enough that only I could hear.  
  
"How-- how are you free?" I said at the same volume. "Didn't they chain you?"  
  
His smirk grew. "Their chains could not hold me, boy. Why not break yours?"  
  
"I can't." I said.  
  
"How do you know that, boy?" He asked with his eyes burning into me. "You have not tested your strength."  
  
"There is not way." I reasoned. "How could I possibly break steal chains?"  
  
"By doing it." He whispered fiercely.  
  
It was his eyes, black pools of cold fire, that made me so uncomfortable. It felt as if he could see into me, just by the sheer intensity of his eyes. I was afraid of him, afraid of the way he looked down at me with a mysterious smirk, and afraid of the unexplainable force I felt from him. 'Hunter' did not move or speak any thing more, but just stood glaring down at me with his arms locked around his chest.  
  
'Who is this guy?' I thought. 'He is here. He is standing in front of my eyes. Why? Where did he come from? Where did he go before?'  
  
"Who are you?" I whispered, but he turned his back to me and walked silently to the opposite corner again. He sat again in the shadows, the darkness masking his face and his black clothes and hair blending into the shade.   
  
"Go to sleep, boy." He commanded. "You can not break your chains until you are willing to do so."  
  
I was about to say I could not break my chains at all, when a heavy drowsiness came over me. The others were already snoring softly from my side and my breathing became slow and rhythmic. I fought to keep my eyes open, but the sudden urge to lie down and sleep was so powerful, almost painful. The last thing I saw was Hunter's cold eyes and a tight frown etched on his face from the other side of the compartment.  
  
The doors swung open several hours later, whirring in their railings, and stopped with a clang. I was awake as quickly as if I had been struck by lightning, jarred from an uneasy sleep and on my feet in less than a second. I crouched down in a stance of preparation without even realizing I was doing so; my trapped arms did not hinder me in the least. They entered staring at me with puzzled faces, but smiled cruelly soon enough and pointed small pistols at me.   
  
It was still night; I could the stars from behind the approaching men. One by one, they grabbed the chains of Joseph, John, and myself and began to lead us toward the door, but as one approached the far corner, I saw a fearsome light in Hunter's eyes, and the man stopped a foot away from him. Without a word, the larger man backed away, and Hunter stood and walked in front of him, pausing a moment at the door to glance back at me. None of the other men stood in his way, nor spoke a word to him as he stepped from the compartment. Feeling the muzzle of a gun shoved into the center of my back, my guard pushed me forward, and I followed Hunter out of the truck.  
  
In the pale light of lanterns, I saw women and children among a few strong looking men, dirt on each face with pale streaks down the cheeks from paths of tears. Fiery hate welled in my heart as I saw tiny children huddling together in fear. My heart was beating viciously and an indescribable desire to tear the armed guards to pieces brought such a heat to my face and body, I didn't think I could stand it. But the number of people was much more than only thirty, and many of the extra people were clean and stood apart from the others. I saw a line of people, who I could recognize easily as prisoners by their appearance alone, moving towards a crude stage.  
  
In the middle of the wooden platform, one young man was standing alone. I recognized as the employer of the others by his nasal voice, that had irritated me so much. As he instructed one of his goons to remove the shirt of the prisoner on the stage, I realized, to my absolute horror, I was seeing nothing other than a slave auction. I stared at the bidding people in disbelief. In his hand, the midget merchant gripped the hilt of my sword; not seeming to have the strength to hold it up, the point dropped down only inches from the wooden surface. The sheath hung lower on his small body than it should, and what was meant to be an imposing sight, only seemed ridiculous to me.  
  
"So is the way of these times, boy." A low voice said beside me.  
  
Hunter was not looking at me, but rather at the stage. The young man had been sold quickly enough, having had a strong build, and the guards replaced the shackles on his wrists and were leading him down to his buyer.  
  
"How," I mumbled, "How can they do this?"  
  
"Fool." He snapped. "The strong will take what they need of the weak." He glared hard at me. "They do it because they can, because the weak either will not or cannot fight back. "  
  
"Why aren't you still in chains?" I asked bitterly.  
  
"Because I am strong." He smirked. "They can't come close to holding me captive."  
  
He turned away from me again, and I watched as the fire from the lanterns glowed over his face. His hair flared up, and the light pulsed over the pointed ends of it. A long widow's peak trailed down his wide forehead, pointing to his dark, empty eyes. His face seemed to be all hard, jagged angles, and his entire body, small yet muscular, was stronger and tighter than solid iron.  
  
Another prisoner had just been sold, and with money collected, the guards slapped chains on a young, slender woman. I clenched my teeth hard, clamped my eyes shut to try to control the rage, yet nothing could subdue the burning desire inside me for vengeance.   
  
"This injustice angers you." He said firmly. "Why not put an end to it?"  
  
I could not answer him. I could not even think well enough to truly comprehend.  
  
"Break your chains, boy!" He said even louder. "Free yourself. Do not let yourself be weak by not fighting back!"  
  
Something inside me snapped. I felt jolts all through my body, pulsing through every vein, filling my bones, and fueling my every movement until the energy seemed to flow from my body. I felt it escaping through my fingertips, through my chest and arms, and even the pores of my face. The energy engulfed me, rising high over my head and swirling around my body. It burned; it was hot against my face and hands. I saw many shocked eyes fixed on me, and many jaws dropped from prisoners, guards, and buyers alike. I jerked my arms from behind my back effortlessly; I did not even feel the iron chains crumble from my wrists as if they were made of sand.  
  
I was glowing; the white light burned all around me. I saw the fear in the eyes of all who saw me as I slowly paced towards the stage, all except Hunter, who stood off to the side watching me with neither a smile nor a frown. The slave trader on stage took several steps back as I came nearer, his eyes darting from side to side looking for escape.  
  
"What are you all waiting for?" He screamed to his employees. "Shoot him now!"  
  
The two guards on stage pulled their weapons out in a flash, each firing a bullet straight towards my face. I was beyond the point of thinking through my actions. Lead by pure reaction, my hands circled in front of my face. I dropped them slowly to my sides, never once taking my eyes from the villains in front of me, and allowed the two lead bullets to fall and thump in the dirt below.  
  
They were quaking as I stepped up onto the wooden platform; the leader stepped back carelessly and fell to the ground. He dropped my weapon, and the sword clanged as it struck the ground. My hand was at his collar before he saw me reach out. I lifted him from the ground, holding his miserable form at arm's length, and immediately heard the clicking of guns preparing to shoot.  
  
"Stop you assholes!" He screamed, clutching at my hands while he hung off the ground. They complied quickly, glad that they did not have to challenge me.  
  
"End this now." I whispered with such fury his eyes shrank in terror.  
  
"Yes--yes of course!" He trembled. "What ever you say, kid. Fine. It's over."  
  
"Free them all!" I yelled for everyone to hear. "Every person that you sold, free them all."  
  
I heard a happy cheer from the prisoners and the hushed swearing from the buyers, who of course would want the money they had paid. The worthless man I held by his collar was painfully aware of this, and looked at me with terrified, pleading eyes.  
  
"This will make a beggar of me." He whined.  
  
"You have made your living from the broken hearts of others." I said, flinging him hard onto the stage floor. "If you are a beggar, it is not because of me."  
  
I bent to the floor, taking possession of my weapon once more. The intensity of the energy surrounding me reflected in its bright blade.   
"This belongs to me, you filth." I said coldly, and he hastily un-strapped the scabbard from his back, holding it out sheepishly to me.  
  
"Never let me see that you have taken possession of something that is not yours." I said as I reclaimed what was mine.  
  
The prisoners were already quickly running from the place, as well as some buyers who had not waited to collect the money they had spent. Even the hired guards were abandoning their employer, taking the trucks, and leaving the area as fast as the machines could take them. I left him there, paralyzed by his own fear and with angry buyers in want of their cash. I walked away from that dreary stage and into the darkness, into the shadows of the trees where I heard a familiar voice whispering to me.   
  
"Sonny," he called with uncertainty. "What--what happened to you?"  
  
"I really don't know." I said truthfully.  
"Who are you?" John came from the shadows and asked. "What is your name?"  
  
"I don't have a name." I said. "The only clue I have about anything is this sword."  
  
"A sword?" John said. "Well then, thank you for that." I nodded gently and turned away from him, walking away from that whole nightmare. "Thank you for what you did for us, Swordsman." Joseph called after me.  
  
I did not answer him; I did not even look back. But as I walked away from the area, a hard voice spoke directly behind me.  
  
"You did well tonight, boy." I turned on my heel to meet Hunter's cold eyes. "Although you would have done better to have killed the coward."  
  
"I didn't want to kill anyone." I said plainly.   
  
"You will have to get over that, boy." The frightening man said in a voice that was almost a growl. 


End file.
